Wednesday, May 25, 2011

The 5:00 a.m. Bird

I didn't sleep last night, don't know why. Ordinarily I am a good sleeper. I lay there for several hours, tossing and turning, trying to understand what was going on. I didn't drink too much caffeine, nor did I drink alcohol yesterday; both of those can cause sleep disruptions. I had plenty of exercise, I wasn't worried about anything in particular. Who knows what was going on?

At 5:00 a.m. the bird came to my window to sing her pre-dawn song. I hear this bird often from a place that's just one level down from awake. Even though ordinarily I'm still sleeping at 5:00, her song registers in my memory because it is very complex. There are chirps, tweets, whistles and a sort of high pitched honking that sounds like punctuation or gentle cursing. Even her singing rhythms are complicated. I never hear this bird except just before the sun rises, hence I call her The 5:00 a.m. Bird.

Because I was wide awake today, I got up, brewed a cup of coffee in the dark kitchen, sat down at the table and listened carefully to her song. She's LOUD - and even more of a virtuoso than I realized. This bird isn't just singing for the hell of it, she is part of a symphony of pre-dawn chirping that takes place up and down E. Capitol Street. Her song sounded somewhat like a call and response with the other birds. It was beautiful to listen to.

Why she always comes to my window to greet the day is a mystery. I appreciate her willingness to include me in the morning music, even though I'm too sound asleep to rouse myself most of the time.

Bird language is not a specialty of mine; some shamans know exactly what those birds are talking about. For me it's like listening to someone singing in Italian or something. I can almost understand parts of it. This morning I opened my ears and mind, I tried so hard to understand.

Because I'm almost never up that early, the experience was very fun, and, too, sitting there listening to the 5:00 a.m. Bird, sipping coffee, watching the sky grow steadily brighter, qualifies as another example of how all my rhythms are wonky at this moment in time.

Since I couldn't fully understand, I made a conscious decision to believe the 5:00 a.m. Bird was telling me that all the foggy, blurry, spiraling shapes and energies I can sense but can not quite perceive may soon come into focus. I hope so. A couple of trippy days is fun, but after awhile it's difficult to remain patient and open. Also: I need my sleep.

the political and geographic realignments continue as does the seasonal reconfiguration. on the relatively small scale of one human, these events being processed alongside the realignments that go with any self-aware processing make for ... work. i know that work of this kind doesn't clock in and off on a regular shoft because it's timeless. sleep becomes optional. eating becomes a possibility. the effects of alcohol become negligible next to the level and quality of energy being processed. what to do? let it flow. move to allow the reconfiguring to take place and continue the movement which knows no direction - inner, outer, up, down - and take care of the animal you live inside! the rest is already taking care. steven

we have a mockingbird that sings at 5 AM. of course he is not the only bird singing but he is the loudest. we hear him in the spring when we sleep with the window open. I think mockingbirds sing for the pure joy of it. I know that what he's really saying is 'ladies, look what a fine specimen I am! see how varied and complex my song is. come be with me.'